


Like a Ballast

by orphan_account



Series: Jegulus Fest [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, M/M, MWPP, Mentions of past abuse, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Regulus realises he doesn't want to follow the path his mother set out for him, he attempts to seek support with his brother.  Sneaking into Gryffindor Tower is easy, but he chooses the wrong bed, and winds up face-to-face with James Potter, his long-time crush, and the person his family blames for corrupting his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Ballast

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jegulus Fest prompt- For jegulus! reg sneaks into the grynffindor boys dorm to talk to sirius about smth (finding the horcruxes/& wanting to leave home/& just to surprise sirius) hides in sirius' bed waiting, the bed actually belongs to a sweaty james cue awkwardness, regulus ends up telling his plans to james who is so extatic about reg being happy/safe he kisses him, spills he's had a crush for sooo long and they end up talking all night planning for the future& being full of new found hope. Idkwhereiwasgoingsorry
> 
> So it's kind of like not at all like this prompt exactly. Just the idea of it. I was feeling a bit morose when I wrote this last night, and just wanted some h/c type of fic. And I love soft James so....*shrug*

Regulus knew he ought to feel guilty for the Confundus charm, but he didn’t. Not when it was this sort of emergency. He pushed past the confused first year, into the Gryffindor Common Room, and cast a defiant look round. His prefect badge gleamed, and his grey eyes narrowed, daring any of them to speak a word against Sirius Black’s little brother.

It wasn’t Regulus’ first time in Gryffindor Tower, though the only other time he’d been in here was under Potter’s cloak. But his memory was far too sharp for his own good, which led his steps to the stairs going up to the dormitory. Being that their dorm only housed the Marauders, and being that Regulus knew they weren’t in yet, he ascended with a little more courage than he would have if any of them were in.

The letter in his pocket poked sharply against his thigh as he turned, reaching for the knob. The corner of the parchment dug into his skin and he wondered for a second if he was bleeding. Likely not, but a physical pain would have been some relief from the pressing, mental agony just waiting, hovering round the corners of his mind—ready to consume him the moment he let himself go quiet.

Which was why he was here, wasn’t it?

Was this what Sirius went through before he packed his trunk and left for good? Before his mother screamed and wailed, and sobbed, burning him from the tapestry and telling him to never darken their doorstep again?

Likely not.

Sirius had been hexed and hit for the last time and Regulus had seen something breaking behind his brother’s grey eyes. That Gryffindor Courage eclipsing any desire Sirius had left to stay in that dreary home. Not when he had James Potter’s family waiting for him with open arms and tea and biscuits and pats on the shoulder, and good jobs.

Had Walburga Black had any inkling how to show her eldest son just how much she truly loved him—and only Regulus knew how much she did—maybe he wouldn’t have gone. Maybe Sirius would have seen some hope there.

But love was weakness and Walburga hated herself for it—only room to love one son and that was her first born Sirius Orion Black—and she took her self-hatred out in hopes it would make it easier to lose him when she did. Because she knew he would. Sirius was far too unlike her from the moment he came out wailing and determined. She’d always known. 

Sirius had suffered for it.

And so had Regulus. Never able to escape the shadow of his brother. Looking too much like him, but not enough. Knowing his existence was all down to a just-in-case—which Sirius delivered. He was the heir now, bearing the signet ring and everything—but did he want it?

For the last year he told himself he did.

But he was never a good liar.

Cunning. Self serving.

But too honest.

 _You could be brave if you tried_ , the Sorting Hat had whispered. It had hesitated long enough to make Sirius smile when he resigned himself to watching Regulus shuffle over to the Slytherin table.

Regulus would never be brave like his brother.

His hands were trembling now as he closed the door. Their dormitory was just as cold as the Slytherin ones, which always surprised him as Gryffindor was so red and so boisterous and so warm. But the draught was coming in through the window with winter snow on the air. His seventeenth birthday had just passed, and the letter was reminding him of that.

_It’s time to make a choice, and I believe you’ll make the right one. You’re old enough now, and you know what we expect from you. Please do not make me suffer another disappointment. I have no more sons to spare._

Regulus felt his throat tighten as he glanced round, trying to remember which bed belonged to Sirius. He was fairly sure it was the one closest to the door, but the Marauders kept things in such disarray there was no personal space between them.

He supposed, in a way, it made sense. Co-dependent and reliant, and Regulus was sure if one of them died, they’d all fall not long after.

He kicked off his shoes, his heavy-bred manners overcoming the wrongness of actually being in here, and he shoved them under Sirius’ bed. There was a dodgy smell, and some crumbs he flicked off with wandless magic as he slid on top of the duvet, and pulled the bed curtains tight round. He thought about casting a charm, but Sirius could undo that with a bat of an eyelash, so he didn’t bother.

He shuffled against the headboard, his knees drawn tight to his chest, head bowed against them, robes falling loosely round his body. The sleeves were too tight now, tugging on his forearm which still held naked skin, but for how long?

Would he really be able to resist? 

To say no?

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to feel the heaviness in his chest as he struggled to draw breath. No one ever told him it was going to be like _this_.

It felt like hours passed before the door opened, and Regulus’ head snapped up. His vague hope it would be Sirius was dashed the moment he heard a familiar voice muttering in the dark. The voice that caused his stomach to squirm, and heat to race up his spine.

James Potter.

Regulus tried. Bloody hell he tried not to feel these things. He tried not to watch James be clever on the pitch, or in duelling. He tried not to remember all the times James was kind to him when he’d visit with Sirius, or how Sirius finally looked happy the moment the Potters took him in.

He wanted to hate him. He was supposed to hate him.

But the worst of it was, James’ smile whenever he saw Regulus was genuine. Sometimes it was filled with pity—mostly because James knew things Regulus didn’t want anyone to know. Usually, though, it just held a fondness like James actually liked him and that…

Well that was too much for Regulus to bear so he pushed it into a dark corner of his mind and kept it there.

Only now…

“…fucking pissed and thinking they can…” James was muttering. His voice went muffled as he was clearly taking off his robes, and Regulus curled his hands into fists, then shuffled under the duvet and hid his face just to prevent himself from _looking_. “…bloody dog paws off each other. All the bloody whiskey and everything…”

 _He’s pissed,_ Regulus thought to himself, realising what the Marauders had got up to.

There was a movement now, like James had knocked against one of the posters. “…the bloody hell shut my curtains?”

Regulus eyes widened under the duvet in absolute horror. He’d got the wrong bed. Oh…

Merlin.

The curtains moved to the side, and James grabbed his duvet, yanking it back as he slid in. It took him a moment, likely from the firewhiskey, to realise there was a body in there with him.

Had it been anyone other than James Potter, likely Regulus would have been hexed, or shouted at, drawing students and professors alike.

But this was James bloody Potter who took the sight of a Slytherin Prefect in his bed as business as usual. He merely leant up on his elbow, met Regulus’ gaze with a quirked brow, and an upturn of his lips.

“Well. If it isn’t my favourite Slytherin.”

Regulus swore his heart was in his throat and he swallowed down a bubble of hysterical laughter. “I thought this was Sirius’ bed.”

Something flickered across James’ face. Disappointment? Regret? He smiled just after, and shrugged. “He moved his to be closer to Remus.”

Regulus pulled a face. “Ew.”

At that, James threw his head back and laughed, then flopped onto his back, arms behind his head. “Is there a reason you’ve broken so many school rules that I, as Head Boy, ought to give you detention and dock nearly all your house points for?”

Regulus felt the blood drain from his face at the possibility, because his house would know. And then Slughorn would write to home and it meant his mother would know.

She would know he panicked.

“I…” He couldn’t stop the tremor from his voice, and at that, James turned, looking actually worried.

“Reggie?”

James was the only one who called him that. Ever. And it sent a shiver up his spine. Regulus slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I need to talk to Sirius.”

Leaning up on his elbow, James stared at him. Hard. Regulus didn’t need his eyes open to know it. “Is this about the letter you got at breakfast?”

Regulus’ eyes were startled open, looking over at James before he realised what he was doing. “How did you…know? I got a letter at breakfast?” 

“I saw you,” James said, as though it was perfectly normal for the Gryffindor Head Boy—best mates to Regulus’ disinherited elder brother—to be watching him over breakfast. “What was it? Your mother?”

Regulus wanted to say no. But the way his jaw clenched and his fingers trembled without his permission…Merlin he was screwed. He couldn’t keep his fear under control and there was no way he’d survive this. The Dark Lord would take one look at him and kill him.

“She…I…” Regulus swallowed again. “I need to talk to Sirius.”

“Well he’s busy having his,” James stopped, realising it might not be entirely appropriate to use words like cock and sucked, when talking to Sirius’ brother. “He and Moony are on a date.”

Regulus snorted, unable to stop himself as he sat up. “Ah. Well. I can just go then. You can take points if you want, but I’d appreciate it if…”

Before he could go, James had his heavy, strong fingers gripped round his wrist, and he was tugged back to the bed. James was sat up, in boxers only and completely unconcerned for his bare, over-muscled chest. Regulus wanted to die right there because why did Potter have to be clever, and funny, and this good looking.

He was dating Evans—or so everyone assumed. And Regulus was burning from the inside with jealousy. She got everything he’d ever wanted—everything he knew he was too weak, and too Slytherin to have.

“Don’t,” James said softly, and released his grip as Regulus eased himself into a sitting position. “Please just…I’ll call him on the mirror in a few minutes. But don’t go. You don’t look alright.”

Regulus suddenly felt a mad, pressing desire to just give the letter over to James. To share his pain and fear and bone-crushing grief at what he was being asked to do by his family. But James wouldn’t understand, because his family would never ask this of him. Never expect this of him.

He found himself staring up into the soft brown eyes of the person he’d been crushing on for two years now, and his self-loathing became bitter. Bile creeping up into his throat, and he coughed against it.

“Talk to me, yeah? I mean…I know we haven’t got on much since you know…” The unspoken, since Sirius came to live with me, hung in the air. “But I still care. You’re still the kid I took on my broom, and taught how to catch a snitch so well you actually beat us last game.”

Regulus felt his cheeks flush because this was all true—but these were all the things he’d locked away so long ago.

“Come on, Reggie.”

Regulus realised he hadn’t heard that name on James’ lips for several years now. “I…” He took a breath, and when James took his hand again, he didn’t pull away. Instead he used the other to reach into his robes for the letter. It was better to let James just read it, mostly because he didn’t trust himself to say those words aloud—whether or not they were his or hers.

His fingers shook, but he handed the letter over, then averted his eyes because he just couldn’t watch James’ face as he read the letter.

It wasn’t long. It was cursed, but only against Sirius so James could hold it safely. He heard a few times James sucking in his breath, and then the slight crumple as James’ grip on the parchment increased with his…

Rage?

Irritation?

Disgust?

Regulus wasn’t brave enough to look up. At least, not until soft fingers pinched his chin, and his gaze wandered, grey to hazel-brown.

“No.”

The word rang out, like a ballast for Regulus to hold on to as the rest of his world was crumbling and falling. It was so simple, James said it so _simply_ as though speaking aloud would make it true, and take it all away, and save him.

Regulus almost laughed, but couldn’t make a sound because James’ fingers were still holding him, touching him, anchoring him. “She…”

“I know what she,” James said, not letting Regulus finish the sentence, and he was profoundly grateful for it. “And the answer is no.”

“James,” Regulus said tiredly.

“You don’t want to.”

This time a laugh did escape, bitter and lonely and aching. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes,” James said, and his grip tightened, almost bruising before he realised it, and he let his hand fall to Regulus’ shoulder, as though he was afraid if he let go, Regulus might hex him and run. “Yes you do, everyone has a fucking choice, Regulus. Everyone, including you.”

“I’m not like Sirius,” he whispered.

At that, James laughed himself, and the sound was light and almost…amused? Fond? Regulus’ head was spinning with it. “No,” James said, and tugged Regulus closer with the hand on his shoulder. “No, you’re not like Sirius. At all.”

“Which is why…” Regulus began.

“Which is why I’m so fucking fond of you,” James answered, as though he couldn’t help himself, as though it would make a difference. “You have a freckle here,” his free hand brushed just under Regulus’ left eye. “It’s been there since I’ve known you. And the right side of your mouth comes up higher than your left when you’ve done something clever. And your eyes crinkle here,” he brushed his fingers along the right side of Regulus’ eye, “when Sirius and I have done something nasty to the other Slytherins and you think it’s funny, but you’re trying to hide it.” 

Regulus’ mouth let out a small puff of air, and he was fairly sure his heart had already beat out of his chest.

James’ fierce gaze turned soft, and he shifted even closer. His index finger brushed along Regulus’ bottom lip. “Your mouth goes into a hard, straight line when Sirius has done something stupid and dangerous, and you’re afraid for him. And when you’re nervous your fingers shake, and you cover your laughs with your sleeve, and you think I can’t see you trying not to cheer me on on the Quidditch pitch even though you really want to. And when I seem sad, you throw matches because you know it’ll make me smile.”

“James,” Regulus breathed.

James shifted closer. “I won’t let you do this. You won’t go to him. You aren’t his to mark.”

“Who’s am I, then?” Regulus challenged, his voice sounding so much stronger than he felt at his barely seventeen years—which felt like an eternity of not being loved, or touched like this ever. He’d been ten when he got his first hug—and that was from Sirius after James taught him how. 

“You belong to yourself,” James said, and his hand moved to cup Regulus’ cheek. “And sometimes you share that with me, and it’s the happiest I feel.”

Regulus blinked. “But…but you and Evans…you’re…”

“We’re not,” James said quietly. “Not after she found out I was in love with someone else. And,” he added with a wry laugh, “after she learnt she much preferred the company of McKinnon.”

Regulus’ eyes widened in shock, only for a moment. “But you…But I…”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” James said very softly. “It won’t change the fact that you’re not going back there to her. And you are not taking that mark, because you don’t want it.”

Regulus clenched his jaw, his instinct to argue with James because he was a Gryffindor, and a blood traitor, and everything he’d been conditioned to hate.

But he remained silent because James was all of those things, but it was everything Regulus had come to love.

“I’m going to call Sirius in here now. And he’s going to tell you the same fucking thing because everyone who lives in this room would die for you, Regulus.”

His throat was too tight to speak, because for all he’d had some friends, and the vague idea of what loyalty could mean, he’d never understood it. Not like this.

“Gryffindors,” he muttered.

James, who hadn’t pulled away to get the mirror yet, barked a laugh. “And Slytherins. Just because that dark bastard was a Slytherin doesn’t mean you’re less brave. Or worthy. You wear your house proudly, and that’s one of the things that makes my head spin about you.” James’ hand trailed down over the Slytherin crest on Regulus’ robes.

“I could have been Gryffindor,” Regulus said in a small voice.

“I don’t care,” James said.

“You hate Slytherins.”

“I hate unkind people,” James corrected. 

“I’ve been cruel,” Regulus reminded him.

James laughed and shook his head, shifting so closer now, their knees bumped together. “And so have I. Without reason.” He closed his eyes, taking a breath. “There’s room for you at my home, Reggie. Please.”

Regulus swallowed, and found himself nodding and moving closer, and somehow pushing his face against James’ neck. His hands came up, splaying across his naked torso and he breathed him in so deep. Somehow it made the fear lessen, and his bravery strengthen, and he thought with James Potter’s arms round him, he could stand up to his mother. To all of them.

Was this what Sirius felt? Not in the same way, but that strength given by this sort of love?

A hand came up, carding through Regulus’ hair. 

“Will you say no?”

“Yeah,” Regulus whispered. “I don’t…I don’t want to become a Death Eater, James. And I’m scared.” It was the first time those words left his lips, and they shook and shivered, but there was absolute truth in them. 

“Then you won’t be.”

James kept a firm hold on Regulus as he retrieved the mirror with a quick Accio, and before long he had Sirius and Remus back on their way from the Astronomy Tower.

“Give me that,” Sirius demanded, reaching for the letter.

James still had it, a jumper on and pyjama bottoms by the time Sirius arrived. Regulus cried out, trying to take it back before the boils could erupt, but he wasn’t quick enough. Sirius dropped it with a sharp cry, accusing eyes falling on his brother.

“I…she hexed it,” Regulus said.

Remus, who was watching carefully, healed Sirius with a flick of his wand. His fingers hovered over the parchment. 

“It’s just him,” Regulus admitted. “You can touch it. I swear, Lu—er. Remus. It won’t hurt you.” His brother’s boyfriend’s name sounded foreign on his tongue, sure he’d never said it before. But Remus looked like he appreciated it as he bent down to pick it up.

He held it in front of Sirius with one hand, the other arm wrapped tightly round him. Sirius was cradling his hands—still sore likely, but his grey eyes flickered through the words. Then they looked up sharply at Regulus, searching for something.

Absolution?

Resignation?

Regulus couldn’t be sure. But he met Sirius’ gaze with a defiant lift of his chin, and held it even when James’ arm came round his shoulders.

“He’s going to come home with us.”

Sirius blinked, then let out a sigh and gave a sharp nod. “Uncle Alphard left me his flat. We’ll be there over the summer. Being that you’re seventeen, you can…she won’t be able to touch you.”

Regulus felt a momentary panic at the thought of defying his mother, but James’ arm held him tight and fast and he felt strong again. “This may kill her.”

Sirius snorted as Remus dropped the letter back onto James’ bed. “Good riddance.”

Regulus couldn’t help his wince, because for all that his mother had never had enough in her to love him, he’d still loved her. He’d still tried, for most of his life, to be worthy of her. And now…and yet…

“It’ll be alright,” James said against his ear. “I swear.”

Regulus felt his whole body shiver, and he felt Sirius’ eyes on him because it was suddenly very obvious that his brother _knew_ both how he felt, and how James felt. And there was a twitch of his lips which Regulus realised right then was acceptance. Approval. Permission.

He leant into James’ arm and was rewarded with a soft chuckle in his ear.

“Stay here tonight,” Sirius said. “Peter’s with his girlfriend in Hufflepuff, so you can have his bed. Or…”

Regulus glanced at James out of his periphery, and it was almost mechanical as James stood up and closed the bed curtains with Regulus on the inside, himself on the outside. He heard James and Sirius whisper to each other, not bothering to conceal their conversation, but still too low for Regulus to make out the words.

It didn’t really matter, though. The events of the day, his fear draining and the prospect of having some sort of sanctuary after he sent his rejection off to his mother, drained him. His eyes were closing without them really meaning to, and his head was falling back against the pillows.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but the curtains parted again, and the lit tip of the wand illuminated the bed. James, without saying a word, carefully unbuttoned Regulus’ robes and shoved them aside. He was manoeuvred into one of Sirius’ larger, muggle shirts. The fabric was strange—Regulus had avoided muggle clothes, no matter how much Sirius had claimed they were comfortable. But he didn’t hate it. Mostly because it smelt of Sirius which he knew meant safety.

He didn’t protest when James climbed in next to him, and pulled the duvet up along both their bodies, and then buried a hand in Regulus’ hair.

“If this is too much…”

“It’s not enough,” Regulus blurted, his mind now not strong enough to curb his tongue. “I’m sorry.”

James laughed, and pushed his nose into Regulus’ cheek. “Sirius was so furious with me when he learnt I fancied you. He didn’t speak to me for a week. He’d cut off all four limbs if it meant preventing you from ever feeling hurt, you know.”

“I know,” Regulus whispered, wishing he could say the same, but he would be lying. He’d let Sirius get hurt far too often.

“It’s okay, you know. He loves you for who you are.”

“Like you?” Regulus asked, careful with his tone, trying not to reveal his fear that James only loved him because he was ‘the next best thing’ after Sirius.

“Not like me,” James admitted, and let his hand come to rest just over Regulus’ heart. “I love you for a myriad of reasons, with words in languages I can’t even speak.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Regulus said, but his head was spinning. “Do all Gryffindors talk like that?”

“You know they don’t,” James said, laughing again. His lips brushed along Regulus’ jaw, not kissing. Not yet. “You bring it out in me. I don’t know why.”

Regulus turned his face slightly, and boldly let his own arm come up round the top of his head, the tips of his fingers brushing over James’ wild hair. His fingers came down, touching James’ nose, his cheek, along his lip making the Head Boy let out a short, firm puff of air. Regulus’ hand looked starkly pale against James’ dark skin. He pressed in until James’ cheek refused to give anymore, and then he pushed their noses together.

“Are you going to kiss me?” James asked.

Regulus laughed in spite of himself. “I want to.”

“Then do it. I’ve been thinking about kissing you since…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Regulus had never been openly courageous, not like this. But he was now. So he did. He pushed his head forward and their lips slotted together. James’ hands went down and down, clutching round his hips and drawing him over and close and tight against his body. Regulus’ mouth opened, in surprise, and James slipped his tongue inside, gentle and unobtrusive, sliding firm and wet against Regulus’.

It was his first kiss.

He was terrified to admit that, because he knew it wasn’t James’. But it stopped mattering when he was overwhelmed with feeling right and love and purpose and safety and future.

Like his life wouldn’t end because of the choices he was making.

When they broke apart, the lumos had gone out from the wand, and he could barely see the glimmer in James’ open eyes. But he was still being held, and still breathing soft against warm skin.

“You’re like summer,” Regulus murmured, sleep now creeping at his consciousness. “Warm. And bright.”

James chuckled and nosed through Regulus’ hair. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.”

Regulus buried his face against the front of James’ chest, nodding, speaking sleep-thick and honest. “M’not going anywhere. Couldn’t make me if I tried.”

It was spoken like a vow. The same way James’ hand drawing up his back was making a wordless promise that Regulus didn’t have to wake up alone. Ever again. And whatever the future held, they’d at least have it together.


End file.
